


White Dragon, Black Dragon, Blue Sky

by kitamomo



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha!Siegfried, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mentions of characters from Siegfried's event, Mpreg, Mutual Pining, Omega!Lancelot, Post-Defender's Oath, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rating will probably go higher I mean what do you expect from an ABO fic?, the sex comes later in the story i am very sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:55:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23308735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitamomo/pseuds/kitamomo
Summary: After subduing Isabella and her vile schemes, Lancelot is now faced with three problems: one, his heat; two, a number of disdainful, jealous subordinates who despised his origins and were now aware of his secret; and three, reconciling with his mentor. Although they had managed to clear his name from Isabella’s accusations, perfectly mending his ties with Siegfried was a little too much for his current mental state to handle.
Relationships: Lancelot/Siegfried (Granblue Fantasy), Percival/Vane (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 38





	1. Homecoming

_“How is he?”_

_Metal clanking. A pen clicking against a clipboard perhaps? Or was it the sound of small tools?_

_“Thankfully, the worst is over. He should be back on his feet again in a week.”_

_“That’s good news.”_

_“But still, I never would have thought it myself! For the Knight Captain to be-”_

_“Shush now. I’ve ordered for any matters unrelated to former consul Isabella or the primal beast Sylph to be kept confidential. I assume there aren’t any objections?”_

_“N-none, Your Majesty.”_

_“Good, good. Well, you’d best be on your way now. I’ll take it from here.”_

~~~

Warm rays of sun lightly shone through the castle infirmary’s windows, like white threads falling from the heavens. Silence, with the occasional sound of footsteps prodding the vicinity filled the room on this tranquil morning. An entire evening had passed since the Knights of Feendrache had successfully subdued Isabella and her wicked scheme, thus lifting a heavy ordeal off the country’s shoulders.

All should have been perfectly well, however there _was_ a certain matter that pooled in through Lancelot’s gut. The thought of it was nauseating, like the miasma that had recently polluted the nearby rivers. He furrowed his brows as beads of sweat rolled out of every pore, dampening the bandages that were supposed to hold him together.

The injured captain of the White Dragons winced as he sat up, feeling an aching burn in his abdomen. _Every six hours,_ a voice in his head nagged --which meant it was about time for his next dosage. Lancelot weakly reached for the orange bottle on the bedside stool and took one of the many white pills that were almost a pain to swallow. Fortunately a glass of water had already been laid out for him. From how it perspired, it was probably placed there not too long ago.

The timing of his circumstances was impeccable: Lancelot was in the middle of his heat when he was held captive by Isabella; tortured, humiliated, and deprived of any medical assistance. It was during this time when his secret had been divulged, and he grimaced as those memories came into his mind like thick clouds of static.

Isabella slowly faded into mind once again --her face mocking, smug, and contemptuous. In front of many soldiers --both allies and foes, he had been exposed, crumbling the perfectly respectable image he had risked everything to maintain since joining the Order.

_“Behold, Lancelot, the man leading the Order of the White Dragons! He has deceived us all into believing he was an Alpha, but ohh my! He was actually a lowly Omega this entire time. I couldn’t believe he was even allowed into such an important position. King Carl’s captain is nothing but a liar!”_

Lancelot recalled how Isabella’s men broke into hysteria upon this revelation. While some cackled triumphantly at his defamation, the others reacted to the heady scent of his pheromones filling the dungeons, as if they had completely given themselves away to primal instinct. Their ravenous pants echoed in his head like a deafening trill, but despite their protestations Isabella would let no one have their fill of him.

After all, it was graver torture to neglect an Omega in heat, depriving him any form of satisfaction. He remembered the look on Isabella’s face as he gradually lost his senses to futile cries of desperation; his contorted features suggesting his _need_ to be filled, _her_ twisted grin telling him she preferred to have him going mad, knees drenched in a pool of his own slick.

~~~

That was all over now, and he was back at home, safe within the walls of Feendrache’s castle. Still, the mission’s success was not enough to stop news from circulating. Although Vane had made sure to give Lancelot his suppressants before heading back home, there _were_ a number of other lower-ranked knights who bore witness to the ugly truth that had been kept for years. 

Despite serving under him, some of the soldiers harbored disdain and jealousy towards their commoner-captain who was able to enter the Order --an idea once unheard of before he had begun apprenticeship. Finding out he was an Omega only fanned the flames even more; for how could a mere Omega even dare hold such a high position over hundreds of Alphas and Betas? News like this was like a carcass for these vultures to feast on.

The retrospect, combined with being confined to this bed was already wearing him down this early in the day. Lancelot figured this was going to be his cycle for the rest of the week, and the thought of it made the weight on his back feel heavier. _‘I couldn’t wait to get back to work,’_ he thought, doing his best to shake off the likelihood of dealing with questions and sceptic glances later on. 

It was then when he remembered another matter --a certain _someone,_ who had returned home with him after years of estrangement. 

_Siegfried._ The former Captain, his mentor, and the object of Lancelot’s admiration for so long. Facing him again was like seeing a phantom in the mirror, and although they had managed to clear his name from Isabella’s accusations, perfectly mending his ties with Siegfried was a little too much for his current mental state to handle.

Lancelot then realized he had been too preoccupied with his thoughts to notice the suppressants taking effect again. His mind had become a little less hazy, and his body felt a little less feverish than it had been minutes ago.

Figuring there wasn’t much he could do anyway, he carefully slid back into the covers and prayed that sleeping more meant recovering sooner . He closed his eyes, breathed in slowly, then out, until the light sound of his breathing carried him back into the world of slumber.


	2. I Can’t Believe You Never Told Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Percival and Vane wait for lunch to be ready, they are left with their sensibilities in the castle parlor. The Lord of the Flame does his best to recollect his thoughts after witnessing a revelation he had least expected, with the help of a certain yellow dog and his bribery of homemade strawberry cheesecake.

Vane found himself on his knees, begging for mercy from a visibly upset Percival.

Besides being larger than the red haired noble in all things physical, Vane was simply no match for the lord when it came to intimidation. It was only natural for a purebred Alpha to have such a regal, domineering aura, after all.

_“Have mercy, Percy --hey, that rhymed!”_

The Lord of the Flame scowled, showing no sign of cooling off anytime soon. He recollected yesterday’s transpirings with a conflicted glare that made him look like he had aged quite a bit --the shouts, the turmoil, and the sweet aroma of milk, honey, and lavender that permeated through his being when they raided the dungeons to rescue their comrade.

Percival pinched the bridge of his nose and did his best to stay composed in the midst of his shock and the never ending yaps of a certain dog in the parlor with him right now.

“Please forgive me! I was only doing my job as Lancey’s bestie!” Vane pleaded, teary eyed, with his hands clasped together in submission. “I’ll make it up to you! I can whip you up a _killer_ strawberry cheesecake later when I get off my shift. It’ll have to chill overnight, but I promise you you’ll have it before you leave for Wales tomorrow morning!”

Percival cocked an eyebrow and slowly tilted his head. Deciding the cake was a worthy tribute in exchange for his clemency, he strode off towards one of the sofas at the end of the room and spoke to his companion from there.

“I’ll take your word for it then.” he said, “I depart before noon, so I’d better have that cake before then.”

“You got it!” Vane beamed, flashing him one of his ear-to-ear smiles. Annoying, but dependable and charming. Percival was beginning to see this Beta in a new light, though he would never openly admit to it at this point in time.

From the looks of it, the day was heading towards noon. Sparrows could be heard chirping from the outside as sunlight shone brighter through the parlor’s windows. The two remained still in silence, waiting for a housekeeper to finally waltz in to announce that lunch was ready. Minutes felt like an eternity when an elephant refused to leave a room, and the creases in Percival’s brow only grew the more he kept his mouth shut.

“How is he? Lancelot, I mean.” he finally uttered.

Vane popped his head up from a random book he thought he’d grab and pretend to read. Although Percival seemed aloof most of the time, it wasn’t that hard for him to express genuine concern for the people he worked with, even for a rival he had once served as co-vice captain with.

 _Even if that former co-vice captain had lied to him about being an Alpha,_ if he could add. He was completely caught off guard for once, walking into that murky, pheromone-filled enclosure, expecting to rescue a fellow Alpha. Fortunately enough he still had hits wits about him, as nothing could ever get in the way of his renowned precision. The Lord of the Flame always kept everything in check, even when biology seemed to work against him.

“Lancey? Ohh, he... seemed pretty okay when I dropped by this morning.” Vane replied, a quiver in his voice from the unexpected question. “Asleep mostly, but the nurse told me he was in the clear now. They’ve patched him up real nicely, so all that’s left for him is to get better!”

“That’s good to hear. I hope he recovers quickly.” 

“Y-yeah… me too.”

Percival bit his lower lip before asking his next question. He figured asking anyway would be better than having to sit through another moment of this awkward silence, with a companion who was obviously feigning interest in an old book, so he gave in and hoped for the best.

“Has he taken his medications? He seemed to be in a pretty bad state when we found him yesterday.”

Vane popped his head up once again, looking almost like a gopher poking its head out from underground. It was almost adorable; another thought Percival would never admit to at this point in time.

“Mhm. I don’t know how he does it, but Lancey’s somehow conditioned his body to wake up at just the right time. He’s usually hopeless when it comes to getting out of bed, so this is probably an exception.” the blonde chuckled, finally putting his book down now that his companion seemed to be in the mood for a conversation that didn’t involve any begging.

“It must’ve been hard on you too, so I should probably say sorry for that, huh.” he added, scratching the back of his head.

“I’m not mad.” Percival retorted. “Shocked, yes. But I know Lancelot had his reasons. I just want to let you know that I am not the kind of man who would look down on others because of status or gender. Nobleman or not; male, female --Alpha, Beta, or Omega --those have nothing to do with a person’s abilities or morals.”

The knots in Vane’s chest seemed to loosen. It may have been the work of Percival’s magic, but it felt as though his companion’s words melted away his remaining anxieties.

“So you’re telling me,” he snorted, “that it’s absolutely, _positoovely_ possible for you to like me?”

 _‘Positoovely?’_ Percival simply rolled his eyes and cocked his head to the side, dismissing the younger man’s question. Thankfully someone came in before Vane could bombard him with another pointless query, and the two left for the lanai, where King Carl waited with a feast laid out for all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had that much free time today, so I managed to type another chapter for this work. I apologize if the story's pacing is slow, but I hope this is going well so far.
> 
> The cat and dog dynamic is something I'm quite fond of, and I love how cool and empathetic Percival is as a character. Things could have gotten more awkward between them here, but the day was saved by Vane's cooking prowess. I too, would like to try Vane's homemade cheesecake.
> 
> **For some reason, the notes for the previous chapter are also showing up here. I don't go here often, so I don't know how to fix this;;; I am very sorry.


	3. A Forest of Voices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams always seemed to blur the line between fantasy and reality, and this was as true as the fact that the past is interwoven with the present. Lancelot wakes up from a violent dream, to find his cherished mentor before him --reassuring him, touching him, doing his best to reconnect with him. Their distinctions as Alpha and Omega get in the way of what could have been the start of reconciliation, and the process causes Lancelot to second-guess everything, including his own feelings.

Before him was a tranquil, familiar scenery; one of a vast hilltop field on a bright day. Evergreen met the blue sky in the horizon, and the tall grass seemed to shimmer in the sun whenever the wind blew, looking almost like gentle waves brushing the shore. His peripheral view was lined with thick trees that danced along with the breeze. Lancelot stood proudly as he tightened his blue scarf, a symbol of his rank as vice-captain of the Order of the Black Dragons. His dark armor stuck out like a sore thumb in contrast with the beaming scenery. From the looks of it, he was in the middle of a mission --probably on lookout duty or on the search for an ideal place to camp.

The air was crisp enough to keep the armor-clad soldier cool even with the sun so high up. He wiped the sweat rolling down his forehead with a handkerchief and surveyed the area once more.

“What do you think? Does this look like a good place to rest?” said a voice from behind him. It was low and pronounced, with an air of gentleness to it. There was no mistaking who it belonged to; Lancelot had grown through his boyhood listening to it after all. Siegfried appeared behind him donning the same black armor, with the usual striking gaze that still had a hint of tenderness.

“It should do for the night,” Lancelot replied, nodding. “This is the highest hill in the area, so it should give us a good vantage point. There’s a stream nearby we can replenish our supplies from, and the soil is firm enough for pitching tents. And there are also a few friendly Wind Rabbits you can pet. I’m sure they’d like you.”

A low chuckle. The solemn smile on Siegfried’s face slightly curled upwards, giving away the dimple at the corner of his lips. Up close, Lancelot could see the man’s features more clearly --the gentle slopes of his eyelids, the wrinkles that were beginning to form, and the amber glow of his wavy hair under the sun. These were only a few of the many things that made Lancelot’s heart pound, and if he had all day to tell someone all about what made Siegfried so lovely in his eyes, he would. His Captain was perhaps the strongest, most handsome Alpha he had ever had the pleasure of knowing, and the distinct aroma of cinnamon, sandalwood, and smoke never failed to render him breathless.

“Those are sound points indeed. Whatever gods are up there must like me enough to have given me such a dependable vice-captain. Good work, Lancelot!”

There it was, the praise that had always brought out Lancelot’s inner child-likeness. He could never hide the pure bliss from his face whenever he earned Siegfried’s approval, and the older man was aware of it. Through their years together, the older knight had learned that words of affirmation were the key to bringing out the best in this particular pupil.

The two exchanged warm smiles until they were joined by the rest of the troop.

The cool wind slowly began to churn, eliciting whispers from the trees. The whispers gradually increased in volume and in sharpness, until the garbled noises began to sound like human speech. Lancelot felt his guts climbing their way towards his throat; bubbling acids as the adrenaline caused his heartbeat to rise.

‘COMMONER.’

‘NOT WORTHY.’

‘DECEIVER.’

‘BREEDER.’

‘OMEGA.’

He soon made out those words coming from the forest, and he then realized that the other knights behind him were whispering along with it in a loud, dissonant chorus. Clouds began to swirl above them, signalling the arrival of a storm. The gray sky was going to swallow him whole.

‘COMMONER.’

‘DECEIVER.’

‘BREEDER.’

‘OMEGA.’

As the shrill whispers grew bigger, pebble-sized droplets of rain began to fall from the sky. They hit his armor with just as much impact as tiny wooden bullets, clanging along with the rest of the noise. Lancelot felt his body grow colder with the wind.

‘COMMONER!’

‘BREEDER!’

‘OMEGA!’

The rain drops gradually changed in color; thickening into a substance that was clearly blood. Lancelot followed their trail as they burst forth into what was now a damp, stone floor --shocked to find his black armor replaced with his ragged, torn clothes that exposed his battered flesh. His lips quivered, and the acidic sensation in his stomach only increased. From out of a dark corner emerged several tiny snakes, each hissing those very words that had by now, been drilled into his memory. He tried to run, but his body would not move. The tiny cellar provided no way out.

Where was Siegfried? Wasn’t he with him just a moment ago?

The tiny snakes communed before his feet, mutating into what looked like a slimy, hair-like abomination moving towards him like a garden of tentacles. Siegfried once again appeared beside him covered in blood; his eyes drained of any warmth. In his trembling hand was a bloodied sword.

“Siegfried? Siegfried, please help me!”

Lancelot’s cries fell on deaf ears. Siegfried slowly turned away without sparing a glance, disappearing into the darkness behind him. The snake-monster’s voices steadily began to distort, until the discordance fused into a single voice: a woman's. Lancelot fell to his knees, drenching his trousers in a clear, viscous fluid that was clearly his.

“BEHOLD, LANCELOT! THE MAN LEADING THE ORDER OF THE WHITE DRAGONS!”

Stop.

“HE HAS DECEIVED US ALL! HE ISN’T THE KIND OF MAN HE APPEARS TO BE!”

Enough!

“FOR YOU SEE, THE LANCELOT BEFORE YOU IS A LIAR-”

No!

“A LOWLY COMMONER! AND WORSE-”

Don’t say it-

“AN OMEGA. HE IS A LIAR. A LIAR! A LIAAAR!”

In an instant, the monster before him twisted and grew a face; and from its mouth came several voices that moaned those same words in unison. Lancelot could no longer tell whose screams he was hearing; were they his own, or those of the people he had betrayed? He cried and cried, but the unanimous chanting combined with the overpowering musk he began to release only made it harder to breathe.

“Help me… Oh, gods, please help me! Vane! Percival!

“Gods… Siegfried! Siegfried… Please...

_"Don't leave me."_

Just then, Lancelot’s eyes snapped open to a world of light. His body trembled in a cold sweat, but he seemed to finally be out of that dark, demented dungeon. A certain dampness underneath him caused him discomfort, but as he fumbled through to check if he were really present in this world, the familiar scent of cinnamon, sandalwood, and smoke slowed him down. A hazy figure reached towards him, and from the size of it, Lancelot could at least tell it was close. A warm, calloused hand gently grazed his face, melting his frozen state with a voice he had memorized with every fiber of his being.

“I’m here now, Lancelot, I’m here now. It’s all right. I’m not going anywhere.”

  
  


~~~

Siegfried had left the lanai early to change his bandages. Although Vane, Percival, and King Carl welcomed him back with open arms, his senses knew that the walls had their eyes on him. Words were powerful --a single statement, no matter how untrue, could throw a person into disarray; its hypnotic effect grew ever stronger the longer the person believed it. He knew his return would draw unwanted assertions, but the murmurs downtown were of no importance to him.

He was by Lancelot’s side when the other awoke from a traumatic dream, exposing a softer side he wasn’t aware he had. It might have been a combination of empathy and pity from seeing his pupil in such a state, but he knew pity was too demeaning for a fellow knight.

_Perhaps this emotion was something else._

Time stood still. Lancelot’s eyes finally adjusted to the light, revealing his cherished person right in front of him. _Siegfried is here, and he is touching me._ It seemed too good to be true, but if it were another dream, it was definitely much better than being in that dark place.

“Let’s get you a change of sheets. I know where they keep them, so you don’t have to worry about the nurses.”

Lancelot nodded as he watched Siegfried’s figure make its way towards the cabinets at the far end. The kingdom’s doctors and nurses had their hands full elsewhere, tending to the victims of Sylph’s poison. The two of them were probably going to be alone for a while. 

“Here you are. Can you lift yourself up?”

The younger knight winced as he struggled to hold his weight on his arms. “With difficulty,” he groaned, carefully sitting back down in defeat.

_Squelch._

It was unusual; he knew he still had another two hours before his next dosage. Was his body finally screaming for a break; giving into all those years he had relied on his suppressants for the sake of his career? It was fortunate for Siegfried to have found him at the right moment, just as he had when Lancelot jumped into adolescence.

“Here. Put your arm around me.”

Lancelot knew he was in no condition to refuse the gesture, but something about the increase in Siegfried’s distinct scent made his spine tingle. He gasped as the other moved closer to assist him, catching a glimpse of the stiffness in the older knight’s movements.

It was his heat. And Siegfried was an Alpha.

“Siegfried… wait,” Lancelot weakly replied, moving an inch away. He fought against every power that urged him to move closer, as his heart was not ready enough to accept that Siegfried was in fact, here with him right now. There was still so much to talk about: _what really happened to the late King Josef? Where have you been hiding all these years? Would you forgive me if I told you I tried to forget you? And am I certain that I am truly still in love with you, even after all that has passed?_ Those thoughts made his heart ache, but it was best to save the remaining shreds of dignity he had left. Siegfried might have been here now, but the future’s uncertainties could just take him away once more. He knew his mentor well, but at the same time he didn’t. This paradox always placed Lancelot on the teetering edge between yes and no; more often than not deciding that it was best to admire his hero from afar.

Siegfried stepped back and stared at Lancelot for a moment. The younger man was clearly flushed with his breaths becoming erratic. He _had_ to be helped out of this sticky mess before anyone else came in, but the Omega’s sweet smell had already struck a chord within him. It wasn’t this intense when he first dealt with Lancelot’s coming-of-age. _This was_ _easier when Krimhield was around to help out,_ he thought, remembering his old friend.

“I’ll hold my breath,” he proposed. “I’ll hold my breath, help you up, then take my leave. I’m sure you have questions for me, but we can save those for another day. Neither of us are clearly of sound mind at the moment.”

 _As perceptive and as kind as ever,_ Lancelot thought. _Only a monster would truly believe those horrible rumors about him --though I had believed them too, at one point. What does that make me? Did I ever deserve his kindness?_ He responded to the suggestion with a tiny nod and braced himself for movement. The younger knight flinched at his former Captain’s touch to the point that it was almost unbearable. Siegfried’s arms were strong and able, though they seemed to be burning up and shaking. Both of them were reaching their limits.

The dampness of Lancelot’s garments should have been nothing. Siegfried was only doing as he had always back then, but whiffs of the Omega’s scent still managed to dance teasingly into his nostrils. This could have all been over in one, swift movement, but he didn’t want to hurt his injured companion. Little did he know that _his_ scent was also drawing Lancelot towards the brink of submission. They felt their threads of sanity spinning thinner and thinner as they desperately tried to hold onto them, and it was only a matter of time before these threads finally snapped.

"Lancey! Siegfried!"

The doors suddenly burst open. Vane’s eyes grew in horror when he saw how two the close were --sweating, heaving, and clearly in pain. He quickly jerked past the beds toward his two friends, grabbing a free blanket on the way. Percival remained by the door, covering his nose in an evident scowl. The air had become thick with both Siegfried’s and Lancelot’s mingled scents, and he hoped that his added presence would at least help mask the hell that was breaking loose.

“Vane,” Siegfried said breathily, “You’ve saved us once again.”

“I knew something was up. You took way too long for a change of bandages, so King Carl asked us to check on you. We were hoping you and Lancey were just having a much-needed heart-to-heart, but you two could have picked a better time to get messy.” he kidded, trying to lighten the mood a little. Vane wrapped Lancelot in the stolen blanket to conceal his friend's scent before wheeling the bed out the door. Siegfried followed suit; his movements restricted and almost mechanical.

Percival had procured a written order from the King for Lancelot’s transfer, stating that he was to recover in the comforts of his own quarters. If anyone questioned them, all he had to do was smack this document in their face -- _if_ anyone dared to question the small group that had both the Lord of the Flame _and_ the Dragonslayer in it. The four knights carefully made their way towards the Captain’s chambers, doing their best to remain unnoticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being longer and darker than I thought it would be. I might have gotten a little carried away with the dream sequence. I wanted to create the atmosphere in a slow, deliberate manner while delivering a gradually increasing feeling of uncertainty. A psychological shift from dark to light (in this case Lancelot's 'labels' and Siegfried's return) doesn't happen in an instant, and I wanted to bring this struggle out a little more. ;w;
> 
> The next parts should be lighter, with these four heading towards the spring of romance. Heeheehee.


	4. A Recipe for an Engaging Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a rather eventful morning, the knights finally wind down to catch up. Vane and Percival leave to tend to their day's tasks, allowing Siegfried and Lancelot the opportunity to patch things up --and slightly open the door to an obvious truth.

_“How’s the soup?”_

_“Mmm. Delicious. The lentils really add an extra kick to it.”_

_“Hahaha! Then eat up, Lancey! Eat, eat, eat so you can get stronger in no time!”_

~~~

They’ve managed to make it to Lancelot’s room with only a few puzzled glances from the castle staff. Vane had asked the two Alphas to wait outside while he changed Lancelot out of his soiled garments, also tending to his best friend’s immediate medical needs. The dependable vice-captain knew just what to do, so Percival and Siegfried stood outside patiently, exchanging quick but authentic pleasantries. Neither were the type to indulge in small talk _or_ in overly personal matters, but their dialogues clearly showed their established mutual respect. Like Lancelot, Percival had once been Siegfried’s vice-captain. Most of his experience on the battlefield had come from his days as a knight of the Black Dragons, and he had learned a great deal of strategy from his former Captain. Those have prepared him immensely for his current status as a grown royal, who was now taking part in governing Wales, his home kingdom.

“So, how is Wales?” Siegfried asked, his head bowed in what Percival assumed was shame. The older man usually blamed himself too harshly; a habit he hadn’t grown out of since King Josef’s murder. 

“Same old,” Percival replied with a shrug. “I don’t exactly agree with all of my brother’s actions, so I am in the process of weighing down which specific matters I should seriously discuss with him. He believes in Wales’ future -- _that_ I know. In that regard he tends to take the more logical path to attaining his objectives. If I may assert my opinion, I believe that both practicality and empathy are essential to good governance. While a country’s progress _is_ important, the satisfaction of its citizens is also a sound way of measuring the righteousness of their King’s leadership.

“King Josef’s rule was a wonderful example. Bless his soul.”

Siegfried responded with a wistful smile and repeated the sentiment, lightly nodding as if he were also raising an invisible wine glass in the air . “Bless his soul.” He paused for a few moments, then proceeded to give his two Rupies on what Percival had just shared. His follow-ups came naturally; like they had gone back to the days they would consult each other on tactics or the day’s training regimen.

“I personally find that outlook admirable. You and Aglovale _do_ have some differences in your ideologies, but at the end of it all, you both hold high regard in serving your kingdom. Focusing only on logic and practicality can put strain on your citizens, but at the same time, too much sympathy and leniency can be detrimental to a kingdom’s prosperity. In any case, he is your brother, and I’m sure he would appreciate hearing your thoughts.”

“Heh. I certainly hope so.”

After reaching an agreement, the door to Lancelot’s room opened. Vane peered from behind it, telling the two Alphas it was now safe to come inside. Lancelot sat on his bed, delighting in a bowl of soup on a wooden bed tray. He certainly looked better, with the color back in his skin and his sweet scent now less overwhelming.

Percival smirked at his friend who seemed too preoccupied with his meal to notice them entering. “Lentil and potato soup,” he said, “It looks delicious from the way you’re stuffing your face in it, though I don’t recall it being on today’s lunch course.”

“That’s because Vane cooked it up just now!” Lancelot replied with a gulp, forgetting about his manners for a second. Percival then noticed a thin trail of steam coming from the end of the room, and found an iron pot sitting on what appeared to be a makeshift stove --the kind ordinary folk (who didn’t have fire magic) would take on long missions. He sighed, resigning himself to the realization that it was unquestionable for the mongrel to have helped himself to a part of Lancelot’s quarters. 

_‘I wouldn’t be surprised if they even peed together.’_ he thought to himself, soon regretting the mental image he had created. Vane flashed him another bright smile and offered a helping of the delicious soup, but Percival replied that he was far more interested in the strawberry cheesecake he had promised earlier.

“Wait- Vane’s giving _you_ a cheesecake?” Lancelot said with a chuckle, “Consider yourself lucky! You’ll find yourself looking for it once you try it.” He almost couldn’t believe what he had just heard, but it was nice seeing the two becoming more casual with one another. Vane and Percival seemed to balance out each other well, which was just what the room needed for a calmer atmosphere.

The four finally sat down together for a well-deserved chat until Vane excused himself to attend to his duties. The Chickadees had a mock battle coming up, so he had to be extra attentive to this week’s sparring sessions. Percival also felt a little antsy about leaving Siegfried and Lancelot together after this morning’s incident, but the knights needed someone to fill in for their Captain while he was recovering. He made sure that both had settled down and asked for their reassurance at least three times before walking out the door. Lancelot and Siegfried were once again left in each other’s company, and the room fell silent in contrast to the cheerful conversations they had taken part in just an hour ago.

Siegfried took the first step. “You seem better,” he uttered deliberately, testing the waters. “Looks like Vane’s soup did the trick.”

“It really hit the spot.” Lancelot replied, breathing a sigh of relief. “Please help yourself to some; I think there’s still a bit of it left in the pot, though you’ll probably have to heat it up again.” This was it --the opportunity to speak with Siegfried in private. Lancelot lifted his head towards the other man who positioned himself against the opposite wall. It was very Siegfriedly of him to be this careful and considerate, but the physical distance made it a little harder for them to speak naturally --and discreetly. The current setting _did_ invite certain risks, but Lancelot could have simply requested for him to leave for today. The other wouldn’t have taken offence, but he felt it best to speak with him soon.

“Umm… How about you though?” the younger knight asked, fixing his gaze in an attempt to read the other man’s expressions. “Are you feeling better?”

Siegfried’s face met Lancelot’s with a sheepish smile, hoping that his eyes alone would be enough to convey his sincerity, as words were never his strong point when it came to matters outside battle. He was a quiet old soul in general, and that calm demeanor was probably one of the things that drew his pupils to him. Being with Siegfried was like admiring the sea from a cliff right before a storm, watching the waves and wondering when the tides would turn violent.

“I can breathe now, at least.” he answered. “Are those medicines working again?” He was careful enough to avoid the 's' word; the walls also had ears, after all.

Lancelot peered his eyes downward, a slight tinge of pink on his cheeks. “They’ve failed me this morning. I think my body is starting to react to having taken them for so many years nonstop; I thought I’d take an extra dose just this once before staying away from them for a bit.”

Siegfried’s expression immediately changed to one of concern. “Is that allowed? Wouldn’t that count as overdose and make things harder when you _do_ stop taking them?”

A soft chuckle. Siegfried could not fathom the reason behind the other’s puzzling air, but he sensed a pinch of mischievousness behind the other’s snicker.

“Well,” Lancelot replied, hiding his lips behind a closed fist as if he were about to cough, “This isn’t the first time I’ve taken an extra pill. I’ve done it a couple of times before; when I wanted to spar for longer hours with you. As selfish and as reckless as I may sound, I’d like to have a few more moments with you today as well, Siegfried.”

His ears grew warmer when he recalled how _close_ they had been in the infirmary; close enough for him to be certain they were headed towards uncharted territory. Even his mind’s vigilance could not deny his true feelings or his body’s longing for genuine affection.

Siegfried’s heart skipped a beat at the sudden confession --sending him spiralling down a warm sensation upon knowing that Lancelot had done things because he wanted to spend time with him --and that he wanted to be with him now, at this very moment. Finding the courage to take a step forward, the older knight lifted a chair and positioned himself closer to the bed. If Lancelot was going to be honest, it was only proper to reward that sincerity with his full attention.

“You finally moved closer.” Lancelot smiled. “Thank you.”

The sun’s heat had become gentler. Fervent shouts of the young knights-in-training could be heard from outside, with the occasional booming encouragement from a voice that was unmistakably Vane’s. The Chickadees’ energy resonated with the veterans inside the room, providing them the helpful push to move their exchange onward. For a moment, Lancelot almost felt like _he_ was the one being cheered on by the lively bunch outside. He allowed himself to listen to the enthusiastic voices, breathing deeply to ease his tense muscles as he prepared himself.

“How are things? I know this might be an inconsequential way of starting the conversation, but really --how are things?” Lancelot breathed deeply once again, waiting for the other’s response.

“Hmm? Oh, uh… Well, I’m better now that things have gotten sorted out.” Siegfried replied, blurting out the most commonly used response to keep things going. “I was alone, mostly. I’m used to it, and my journey has taught me a number of things --like for instance, did you know that Killer Hornets were rich in protein? The trick is to pull the stinger out before roasting them over a fire; hornet meat got me through many tough days.”

“I see,” Lancelot said with a giggle, “Maybe I’ll try some when I get the chance. Do you think they’d go well with spices?”

“I could catch some for us. Then we could leave Vane to work his magic in the kitchen.”

The pair laughed, delighting in the idea. _Stir-fried Hornet with Roasted Basil. Hornet Saut_ _é_ _ed in Augustian Oyster Sauce. Hornet Steak with Mashed Potatoes and Lentil Soup._ It had been ages since they last shared a laugh like this, bantering and basking in the simplicity of mundane topics. They would bring up the old days now and then. 

The afternoon had allowed them to catch up with the time lost, and before they knew it, the sun had begun to set, and the exuberant voices of Vane’s trainees died down as the day’s work came to a close. Neither had noticed when in the discussion Siegfried moved even closer to sit by Lancelot’s side. The pair breathed steadily; Lancelot leaning still on Siegfried’s shoulder, looking more relaxed than ever. This was the first time they had ever gotten this physically close. They spoke nothing of the intimacy and seemed to agree that this was simply an act of consolation between two old friends, though both somehow wished that there was something more to the hot flushes and hushed voices.

“Lancelot,” Siegfried spoke, as if gently waking the other up, “I should probably take my leave now. It's... time for your medications. King Carl had also asked me to report to him before supper. You should stay here and keep resting. I’m sure Vane is on his way to check on you.”

Lancelot looked up at him, feeling a dull ache in his chest. _How was it this late already? Do you really have to go so soon? And did you like it, having me on your shoulder?_

Siegfried slowly rose, but not before he leaned his patient back onto a pillow. His proud silhouette stood against the orange sunset’s glow on the walls, working his arms around to unfasten his cloak.

“Here; it might prove to be difficult for us to meet in the middle of this ordeal, so this is the least I can do to help. It should be thick enough to keep things down while you’re taking a break from... you know -- _that_. For the meantime.” he said, draping the cloth around the other. 

It probably wasn’t the best idea to keep an article that had Siegfried’s scent on it, but Lancelot had accepted his mentor’s cloak regardless. He knew he would be lonely from time to time, and having this piece of Siegfried with him was a good enough reminder this was real --that his hero had in fact, returned home. Lancelot held the cloak to his chest, feeling the temperature rise in his underside and abdomen. He began to feel the dampness once more.

“Thank you,” he said softly, “for always thinking of how to make things easier for someone like me.”

Siegfried smiled warmly, taking in his pupil’s endearing image one more time before leaving the room. He wasn’t going to be this physically close with Lancelot for a while maybe; not without losing himself entirely to the other man's sweet fragrance of vanilla. The unfathomable expression on Lancelot's face somehow mirrored his own, and he hoped that this meant they had officially reconciled. With one last look, Siegfried raised his hand to caress Lancelot’s warm cheek. The pheromones might have been kicking in again, but this time they took a fleeting, mellow tune only the two of them could hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this far into the story; I don't think I've ever written four chapters this quickly. 
> 
> I had originally intended to get more into detail with what the two talked about in Lancelot's room, but I figured it might have been better to capitalize on the emotions they felt while reconnecting. ;w; Things finally seem to be coming together, and a portion of the next part shall illustrate how Lancelot deals with the Siegfried-scented cloak that evening. (snicker snicker)


	5. Much Needed Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A knight and a king have a heartfelt exchange on a revered hilltop. Back in the castle, a young knight finally deals with emotions he had for so long, tried to suppress.

_‘I must apologize, Carl. As the younger, you have lived through the burden of living under my shadow. And it is probably no easier for you to have been born a Beta. It may seem out of place for me to tell you this, but do not give into the whispers of the darkness. I have seen what you can do, and a benevolence like yours is a light our kingdom needs._

_‘In the case I meet my untimely demise, I want you to remember that while there will be those who might oppose you, you must find strength in knowing that there are also trustworthy souls who will remain by your side. Take up the Crown with the pride I have for you, and do not falter, my Brother. You have your Subjects, the Knights, and your People to shape Feendrache’s future with. And Siegfried --as intimidating as he might be, would be more than willing to listen to you as he continually advises me. Dragons cannot make fire or fly on their own. Seek your wind, Carl. And do not underestimate what you already know. ’_

~~~

A solitary figure stood in the empty throne room --a man shrouded in ornate velvet and armor bearing the crest of Feendrache. He was of short stature and had a stout build. On his head rested a large crown that seemed nearly impossible for anyone’s head to balance. He faced the empty throne; eyes transfixed on the large insignia of two dragons hovering above it.

Each crease on his face spoke of wisdom; his gentle eyes, mirrors of the fatherly love he harbored towards his kingdom. Though the future was uncertain, his expression remained serene. The words of his brother, the late King Josef, never failed to whisper to him whenever he was alone like this; and those words were both a comfort and eerie reminders that sometimes made the crown heavier for him to bear. With his former consul expelled, King Carl spent more of his time catching up to Feendrache’s current state of affairs, earning both the praise and scrutiny of his people. It was never easy being anyone’s successor, and this was especially true for a king who was anything but an Alpha. For this reason, he was almost parental towards Lancelot, his Knight Captain and a kindred soul who was experiencing troubles of similar nature. Doing his very best to heed his brother’s guidance, King Carl devoted each day to learning the ways of an admirable ruler, as well as looking out for his loyal subjects.

“Your Majesty, you wished to speak with me?”

Siegfried’s voice quickly caught the King’s attention. At King Carl’s nod, the knight approached quietly, kneeling on one knee in reverence when they were about three feet apart. The King wrinkled his eyes in fondness and responded to the gesture with a jolly chuckle.

“There is no need for formalities, Siegfried.” King Carl replied, animatedly waddling towards the other. “I hope you don’t mind taking a stroll with an old coot like me while supper is being prepared. A little hike should be no feat for a mighty knight like you!”

Siegfried returned the enthusiasm with a smile and offered the King his arm. Word of King Carl’s paternal bearing and familial upbringing towards the people of Feendrache had reached him even during his exile, so he somehow already knew just where they were headed. Though they had only spoken briefly years ago, Siegfried immediately felt a calm wash over the trepidation from moments earlier as they made their way up a cozy little hilltop overlooking the kingdom. Down below, they could see the tiny lights of the townsfolk’s cottages, each telling a different story: of workers returning home after a day of work, of children helping their mothers set the table, or of the taverns opening up for another night of business. The rivers and streams ran across like silver laces on a tapestry; and the Castle, in its proud glory, watched silently before its citizens. The pair beheld the beauty of their beloved homeland; hearts swelling with ardent pride.

“Josef,” King Carl called out, “Your dear friend has finally returned home.” He smiled, making his way towards a polished headstone that bore the late king’s name. Siegfried followed suit, carefully treading the grass as if taking part in a solemn parade. The knight’s lips quivered upon seeing his liege’s name carved in stone; a testament to the fact that six feet below laid a man he will never again have the honor of serving.

King Carl sighed wistfully and placed his hand on the stone. “My brother, for some reason, knew of his fate. He was quite perceptive and always knew what was going to happen. Sharp wits like his are a rarity, aren’t they?”

Siegfried nodded in silence as he remembered King Josef’s deeds. The man had taught him everything he knew about chivalry, but the thing Siegfried remembered him most for was his unconditional respect. No one was more favored than the other for as long as they paid their dues, and new systems were always welcome if he saw how they benefited his citizens. The late King had always placed his trust in Siegfried despite the warrior’s unknown origins; seeing nothing but a steadfast heart that could one day stand strong with the desire to protect their kingdom. He was never a second late when it came to standing up for Siegfried in the face of arrogant nobles. They shared a strong bond between Lord and Knight, but behind castle walls, they were also intimate friends. 

“The two of you were very much alike, especially with how you never once discriminated against the people you guided. You only sought to see the potential in your subjects, and for that alone, I greatly admire you.” King Carl then glanced at the town below as a calm wind embraced them both. “Most Alphas think of their statuses as gold seals that can grant them access to absolutely anything, which is why I know I can confide in you, Siegfried. I only pray that you take no offence in what I am about to say --or in this case, suggest.”

Siegfried approached King Carl’s side and admired the view with him. “Of course not,” he replied, “it would make no sense to refuse without giving the other a chance to speak his mind. Regardless of gender or origin, everyone deserves to be heard. I will do all that I can to help.”

Pleased with his answer, King Carl returned the smile and gazed back at the town below them. “Siegfried, as you know, my brother and I never married. That boat sailed decades ago. Why, even if I tried right now, well, I doubt anyone would be interested. I mean -- _look at me!_ I can barely even walk for hours without losing my breath! Haha!” He then gestured to himself and allowed for a few seconds of laughter. Siegfried already knew where this conversation was headed from that segue alone, but he listened quietly with a strange warmth that enveloped his heart. 

“Despite that, we acknowledged the importance of family. Prestige can do only so much, but medals of honor won’t provide the company your heart longs for. You… know where I’m getting at, don’t you?”

“I think I have an inkling of what you are about to say next, but please --go on, Your Majesty.”

King Carl paused and slowly turned to face Siegfried. He looked at the other with a gentle, unwavering gaze, reaching out to clasp both of Siegfried’s hands in his. The knight patiently waited for him to continue.

“Lancelot is like a son to me, and in effect, that makes you one as well.” King Carl paused to offer another gentle smile. “The two of you have done your jobs marvelously for Feendrache, but tell me, has the prospect of forming a bond entered your mind? I know I may sound as if I am imposing on your kindness, but at this rate, Lancelot’s secret is bound to get out. Some others have already taken notice, and needless to say his body has already reached its limit for now. I fear keeping this hidden for much longer will only do him more damage than good.”

Siegfried lowered his head. _You sympathize with him,_ he mused, _Lancelot is blessed to have you looking out for him in my absence._ His thoughts then wandered to the memory of Lancelot resting on his shoulder, to the look of disappointment the younger knight gave when he had to take his leave. Siegfried questioned the feverish sensation he felt whenever Lancelot came to mind now, and why he had given the latter his cloak. _Was that done merely out of concern? Or was that perhaps… my subconscious’ way of marking him with my scent? All these years, I never once considered it, but he and I have always been rather fond of each other, haven’t we?_

“You have done your duties to this country marvelously, Siegfried,” he said, lightly shaking their hands with every other word, “so it might be a good time to think of settling down --you know, raising a family. I know you’ve lived most of your life doing things on your own, but sharing your heart with others is a gift in itself. I can think of no one more suitable for the both of you. When I become far more withered and old than I am now, I will at least have my attendants to tend to me. But I will have no memories of having spent my life with my beloved _or_ children to take with me to the grave. _You,_ on the other hand, are still quite young. You have much to experience --much _energy and vigor_ to release, if I might add. I apologize.”

Siegfried felt himself blushing at the last remark. “I’m… flattered you’ve been thinking of our welfare, Your Majesty; but I have sworn my heart and my sword to Feendrache. I couldn’t imagine a life more fulfilling.”

King Carl sighed, thinly shaking his head. “I figured as much! Lancelot answered similarly.” He paused, breathing out a sigh. “That boy has been worrying me these past months; given his situation, he has become a key target for prying eyes. You were with him before you met with me, am I correct? I recognize that whiff of vanilla and honey anywhere. His pheromones have been going haywire as a result of his body growing immune to his suppressants, so I dread to imagine his future if this keeps on.” 

Siegfried hesitated for a moment. Up until now, he has known only his duty to the King and to Feendrache. Matters of the heart were never an immediate concern, but reuniting with Lancelot has awakened something within him --something new and _feral,_ mixed with the same, saccharine endearment he had always harbored for the younger knight.

“A loving mate, and one pup --maybe even two,” the King chuckled, noticing how deep in thought the other now was, “I ask you to take the time to consider. Josef and I have never doubted your love for this country, so it’s probably time you gave some of that love for yourself as well.” He nodded, reaffirming his conviction, then allowed the other to ponder on the conversation that transpired.

The two stood still in silence underneath the now dark sky. King Carl sighed and softly placed his hand on the headstone once more, bidding farewell to his dear brother. “Well then, I see smoke rising from the kitchen, so I think it’s time we head back. Thank you for granting me some of your time, and for lending me your ears, Siegfried. My only wish for all of Feendrache’s children is happiness.”

~~~

The rest of the evening was a long one for Lancelot. Leaving his half-eaten tray of food by the door, he twisted into his sheets as the swelling of his body tortured him by the minute. It was tranquil; there weren’t any voices outside that could drown out his whines, which added to the inconvenience of having to keep everything down. Right now, he only had one thing in mind, and that was to breed.

He bit his lip, curling tightly in desperation as his sheets and pajamas soaked themselves in a mixture of sweat and slick. Siegfried’s cloak was kept in a tight embrace in between Lancelot’s arms and thighs; the intoxicating scent only driving him towards absolute surrender. Vane had instructed him to keep his doors and windows shut to permit none of these scents and pheromones to run with the air outside. It was heaven as it was hell.

Truthfully this wasn’t the first time he had thought of Siegfried in this manner. The younger Lancelot would sometimes lay awake after a sparring session, thinking of his captain’s piercing stare and alluring, muscular body. He would recall Siegfried teaching him how to properly hold a sword, reveling in the feeling of the older man’s hands on his. Those thoughts came flooding back to him during his heat even in adulthood, each time claiming it would be the last instance he would ever engage in such an unbecoming manner.

At this point, the heat had gone far into his head. Lancelot pressed closer into Siegfried’s mantle, drowning in the familiar, tantalizing scent of his mentor as he slowly ground his erection into it. 

“Hah… ahh, Siegfried… _Sir…_ ”

 _‘Sir.’_ That was Lancelot’s favorite scenario, as he had learned: being alone in a cozy tent with his then-Captain while at camp. Up until now, the past was all he could use to fuel these fantasies. While he did his best to fight back any impure thoughts relating to Siegfried during his expulsion, resisting the honesty of his body was almost pointless, even with the assistance of heat suppressants. Everything came flowing out like a heavy weight pushing down against him now that he was trapped alone with Siegfried’s scent, and there was nothing to restrain him. 

The fabric of his clothes began to make things uncomfortable with the swelling tightness in front and the growing wetness behind. Lancelot heaved as he clumsily pulled his trousers down, baring his flushed cock which dribbled heavily with a clear substance. Lancelot’s underside slid along the slippery puddle that had formed on his bed sheets. He arched his back and reached for his puckered opening, wet and hot to the touch; and as he always did, he pretended that it was Siegfried touching him, entering him, lovingly exploring his body. 

The feeling was divine --the feeling of having a secret only they knew of. His life had been all about keeping secrets, and this chronic fantasy was just one of the many thoughts that kept him up at night. Now that Siegfried had actually returned --probably a little different from the version Lancelot had grown accustomed to touching himself to, it was only a matter of time before he finally snapped in the presence of the person he loved most. He realized this as he pressed the cloak into his face, pushing his fingers into his cloaca as the exhilarating aroma once again sent him off into a daze. Soon, the scenario in the dimly-lit tent slowly began to fade into that of the castle’s infirmary in the morning. 

_I could have just let him. He could have taken me right then and there, and we would have been bonded by now. Everyone would already know about my being an omega, and I would be free from having to hide. I’d have Siegfried here in bed with me now, tending to me, making love to me until the hours of morning._

Lancelot hurriedly rolled his shirt up, panting more erratically between restrained whimpers as he rubbed one of his hardened nipples. 

_He held back for my sake. If I could have just told him how I felt, neither of us would have to be subjected to any further restraint._

These thoughts came in passing as Lancelot prodded his fingers further into his overflowing opening. He had fully accepted by now that he knew he needed Siegfried, and that there was a good chance his feelings were reciprocated. He again recalled their state many hours earlier in this very room --exchanging heated touches and brief caresses in the dimming sunlight. _I want to become yours,_ he thought repeatedly. _I want you to mark me, knot into me, make me bear your young, and never leave my side again._

Completely giving into his carnal desires, Lancelot pulled Siegfried’s cloak even closer and squeezed it tighter between his thighs, rutting into the fabric in desperation. Despite the protests in his mind, his body moved on primal instinct. He needily rubbed himself all over as he inhaled more of Siegfried’s scent, dampening the sheets more and more by the second. His insides spasmed as his fingers increased in tempo, spurts of clear liquid beginning to shoot from his front and backside.

_I love you, Siegfried._

_I want to become yours._

_If you’ll have me, I shall want nothing more than that._

_I love you, I love you._

_I love you!_

“Siegfried… I love you!”

When Lancelot opened his eyes again, the sun had already risen. He realized he had passed out and woke up to the sound of troubled, muffled murmurs outside his door. The pronounced aroma of vanilla had seeped through the cracks overnight, and now that it was morning, people have taken notice. The room suddenly felt cold, and the acid bubbled in his stomach as more voices outside joined in. Lancelot slid deeper into the covers, fighting his thoughts as memories of that dark cellar began to cloud his mind once more.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was tricky to write. I reflected on how to go about it for weeks (with beer by my side). I'm not very confident, but I'll do my best with the succeeding parts! I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless; King Carl's character was fun to explore!


	6. All It Takes is a Little Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An hour before Percival's departure for Wales, Vane musters up the courage to ask his prickly fellow knight to a quick homemade breakfast. What started out as a sour morning ends on a sweet note, awakening them to the spring of newly-formed emotions.

The chirps of birds in the castle courtyard heralded the coming of a new day. There was something about the early morning winds that made the castle feel bigger; mostly due to the way nature’s cool breezes freely danced their way into the empty halls. By the gates, two soldiers busied themselves with loading precious cargo into a magnificent, gold-lined carriage that bore the crest of Wales.

“The Lord of the Flame sure is taking a lot of stuff back with him. He was here for only a couple of days, wasn’t he? These souvenirs?” 

The other nodded and placed another lacquered box into the storage compartment. “I hear Lord Percival took his work with him wherever he went. It probably isn’t easy being the youngest of a prestigious noble family; their order of birth sure as hell doesn’t make things any easier for the youngest son. His eldest brother King Aglovale makes me feel all queasy just thinking about him!” 

“Age has nothing to do with it!” the first soldier replied, lightly jabbing his companion on the shoulder. “It’s clearly that long-running royal Alpha lineage that makes them so impressive! Speaking of which... Did you happen to pass by Captain Lancelot’s quarters this morning, by any chance?”

The second shook his head and gave his friend a puzzled look. “No, but I heard there was a commotion earlier. Has something happened to the Captain?” 

A momentary pause. Both soldiers huddled and looked around to check if the coast was clear, and in hushed voices, proceeded with the rest of their conversation. “Apparently the rumors might be true after all,” the first said, with a hint of malice in his tone. “That Captain Lancelot might actually _be_ an _omega._ ” He pronounced the last word in a syllabic whisper; concealing his lips behind his gauntlet like a school boy sharing a deep, dark secret in the middle of weeding duty.

The other man cocked his head and scoffed at the statement as he loaded the next box. Everyone knew it was inherently impossible for an Omega to possess such fine leadership skills and prowess on the battlefield; though this was only what most had been taught to believe. Alphas were usually ahead in every respect, while Omegas were looked down upon and seen as nothing more than tools for breeding. Betas were probably the luckiest; perceived as ‘normal’ and devoid of standing out excessively due to their absence of highly distinguishable reproductive traits. 

“Oh, you don’t believe me?” the first responded adamantly, stroking his chin, “From what I gather, a number of Alphas among our ranks were going crazy over a mysterious sweet scent coming from his room. He either _is_ , or he’s keeping one in there with him. I’m telling you; that Lancelot’s always been pretty shady. Former Captain Siegfried and the King probably just felt sorry for him for trying so hard, so they had no choice but to appoint him.”

“Heh, then if that’s true, I guess some guys are just luckier than others. Captain Lancelot’s won it big, and the fact that he comes from a commoners’ family doesn’t make me feel any better either.”

The duo sighed collectively, heaving the last box into the vehicle. “Tell me about it. Sure must be nice, being the King’s lapdog.” After finishing the job, the gossiping pair decided they deserved a breather while it was still too early for breakfast. They sat on the cold cobblestone and continued their discussion, but little did they know someone had been listening in on the conversation the entire time. They snickered like two fiends making a shady alleyway exchange, eyes now glazed with spite. 

“Hey --if I somehow managed to go for him while he’s in heat, does that mean _I_ can become Captain?”

“And _who, pray tell,_ are you going for, exactly?”

A sudden wave of heat took charge of what had earlier been the cool morning air. The soldiers felt their horrified faces growing paler as they fumbled and hurriedly stood up; one of them even dropping his scabbard in the process. Percival kept a keen glare while approaching them, dagger eyes piercing through their souls like burning embers. 

“Lo-Lord Percival! We’ve- we’ve finished loading all of your belongings, si-si-sir!”

Percival sneered as the two froze like prey in a lion’s den. He knew exactly who they were referring to, and while it was generally distasteful to hear any scandalous statements targeting his trusted friend, he deemed it more despicable to trample over one’s dignity over stereotypical absurdities. A single look was more than enough to convey his warning: _Say anything like that again, and I will personally see to it that you never utter anything else for the rest of your sorry, uneventful lives._

He glared at them then averted his gaze to check if his belongings had been handled carefully. “Hmph. If you’re finished here, go make yourselves useful somewhere else.”

“Ye-yes, milord!” The two unfortunate souls bowed and quickly fled the scene at the Lord’s command. Percival coolly slicked back some of the locks that crowned his face as he watched the two fools run with their tails between their legs. He never did like dealing with pompous individuals, most especially when it was this early in the day. The young prince then took a moment to breathe a little; taking in the aroma of freshly baked bread from a nearby bakery before turning towards the meddling shadow moving at the corner of his eye.

“How long do you intend to stand there?” Percival asked, narrowing his eyes towards the individual hunched over behind a lamp post, “If you have business with me, come out with it while I haven’t left yet.” 

A larger man shortly emerged from his hiding spot, scratching the side of his head. In contrast to Percival’s ornate, silken threads, he dressed in a plain white shirt that clearly accentuated his impressive build. The two knights stood before each other --candid, armorless, and possibly in need of a diversion from recent events.

“Haaah, guess you caught me!” Vane snorted, raising both arms in the air. “As expected of the ever keen Lord Percival! First of his name, devourer of strawberries, defender of justice--”

A couple of onlookers turned their heads towards the source of the loud voice. Unsure of what to make out of the remark, Percival narrowed his eyes and shook his head. It truly was too early in the day to be dealing with this much energy, especially on an empty stomach. Percival’s thoughts then drifted to that of a certain strawberry cheesecake he was promised the other day, prompting a low, slightly audible growl that earned him a cheeky grin from his companion.

“--and in dire need of some grub! Somebody’s got the _hungies!_ ” Vane remarked now twice as energetic. Anything that had to do with eating never failed to excite him, because that usually meant whipping up a hearty snack for other people. And in this particular instance, he wasn’t going to cook for _just ‘_ other’ people. He was going to propose a meal to none other than Percival --his best friend’s rival, and a tough nut who he has, for so long, tried so hard to crack. He wrapped his fingers around his friend's forearm without a second thought and kept his big green eyes fixated on the other's amber ones.

“You’re- you’re heading back to Wales in an hour, right? Then there’s no way I’m letting you go home without having breakfast! I just finished dropping off Lancey’s food and haven’t had any myself, so the timing’s perfect!” Vane chimed, visibly a little too happy about the invitation. With Lancelot kept in intensive care, it was likely for the isolation to have gotten to his head. “Let’s just say I owe you one for standing up for Lancelot back there.”

 _“Owe_ me?” Percival repeated with a raised eyebrow, “Hmph. I didn’t do it for you.” Realizing he and Vane had been making eye contact for a little too long, he quickly darted his head towards the other direction and lightly brushed Vane’s hand off. 

“Then… If I told you I wanted to cook for you _just because_...” Vane replied, “Would you let me?”

For some unfathomable reason, Percival felt a spring in his chest, accompanied by a tingling warmth that rose to his face. He’s sure he hadn’t summoned any of his flames, and the lively Vane moving in closer wasn’t helping at all. The prince sighed and braced himself for what he was about to say next, and the possible ordeal that was going to follow.

“ _Fine_. How long is this going to take?”

Vane’s face grew even brighter at the response, making Percival wish he had never opened his mouth. No amount of time was going to be enough for these two acquaintances to get to know each other more, but any chance at getting closer to Percival, no matter how small, was a hundred times better than none --or so Vane felt. After all, friends mattered most whenever things got rough, right?

“Wait, seriously?!”

Percival clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me repeat myself, mongrel.”

The younger knight could no longer help but give into the sheer ecstasy. It was big enough to have lasted this long in a conversation with Percival, but for the Lord of the Flame to actually agree to a quick breakfast topped off ‘Thwarting Isabella’ on his personal list of ‘Most Amazing Feats I’ve Accomplished This Week.’

“It’ll take only an hour,” he replied, drawing a deep breath as he nudged his poor friend towards the castle. “Only an hour, unless you beg for seconds!”

~~~

It took a little longer than planned before they finally arrived at Vane’s quarters. The thrilling new game of ‘Stare-and-Scare’ they had with the stooges loitering around Lancelot’s corridor was too tempting to pass, and before they knew it, they had already taken up fifteen minutes of their full hour. They ran into Sophia a little shortly after, exchanging quick hellos while she gave them updates on Lancelot’s recovery. Getting lost along the way took up another five minutes, so it was up to Percival to lead this lost sheep back into his _own_ room.

There were thirty minutes of breakfast left when they unceremoniously arrived. He expected to find a cluttered mess that matched Vane’s chaotically vibrant personality, but Percival was pleasantly surprised to instead find a passably organized space. A slightly opened window let in some sunlight and fresh air; right below it, a couple of cook books laid on a neatly made bed.

“The little detour took up some time, but I can whip us up something real quick! Sit anywhere, Percy; make yourself at home. _Mi casa es su casa!_ ”

Percival made do with a random chair sitting at the center of the room and listened to the distinct sound of something sizzling in the corner. The sweet smell of butter soon danced across the room, making his stomach churn in response. As much as he wished to deny it, everything he knew Vane claims to have cooked so far all looked, smelled, and tasted delicious. If anything the warm, welcoming air he provided probably even added a signature charm to every dish, which will, as Lancelot had previously described --and as Percival will soon learn, _‘have you looking for more.’_ As much as he wished to deny it.

“That aroma,” Percival uttered, taking quick sniffs a couple of times, “Buttermilk?”

Vane looked over his shoulder as he worked the skillet over another makeshift stove similar to the one in Lancelot’s room. “Yup! It’s the quickest thing in my book, but trust me when I say these’ll be the best buttermilk pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”

The heavenly scent grew thicker. Percival could no longer tell which of the two was brighter --the sunlight outside, or Vane’s endearing confidence in his culinary skills. Maybe this big, bubbly puppy _did_ have a bearable side after all; the kind that brought comfort to anyone whenever things got rocky. Dogs were great at that sort of thing, and the fact that this one could cook and fight might have made things ideal.

“I’ll hold you to it then,” Percival answered, lifting his head to check on whether or not the pancakes were done. He had been starving all morning, with thoughts of a certain cheesecake making him a little more impatient for a meal than usual. “I certainly hope you haven’t forgotten your promise from yesterday. While I dislike the idea of seeming too excited over trivial things like sweets, I’ll have you know that I take promises seriously.”

“Oh, do you now?” Vane bellowed, “Or is it that you just take any strawberry flavored dessert seriously?” Knowing he hit the nail right on the head, he gave Percival a quick wink before getting back to his cooking. With skillful hands, a rose made of whipped cream appeared on a stack of fluffy pancakes, drizzled with a generous helping of berry slices and a single basil leaf. He proudly served the dish to his companion and brought his own share over to his bed, stealing secret glances as he closely watched for a positive reaction.

“It’s delicious,” Percival finally said after swallowing his first bite. “Even with the little time it took for you to prepare this, this consistency is the closest to perfection I’ve ever eaten. It seems your confidence wasn’t for show, so I’ll give you that.”

Vane swore he nearly felt his heart burst. This wasn’t the first time he was commended for his cooking, but the absolute rarity of Percival ever praising him made this particular instance even more astounding. His happiness overflowed like running cups of milk he had forgotten to pay attention to, and it was at this moment he realized he might have been more interested in the man that he initially thought. This became more evident when Percival finally announced that he had to take his leave. Yesterday’s transpirings, combined with the memory of sharing this short homey meal suddenly felt like a dream. His expression turned sulky at Percival’s announcement and walked towards the corner of his room to retrieve two iron boxes from a chest of ice.

“It’ll probably be a while before you come back, so I hope you’re fine with not one, but _two_ of Vane’s special strawberry cheesecakes!” He proudly nudged the frosty containers towards Percival, once again taking in the other’s seemingly surprised expression.

Percival reluctantly took the densely heavy boxes and tried his best to suppress any hints of the excitement he felt; though a small drop of strawberry syrup on the frosty rim made it a little difficult to keep his mouth from watering. It was going to be a long trip back to Wales, and he predicted at least a third of one box to never see the glory of his hometown. He averted his gaze and quickly uttered his thanks.

“Just one would have been enough,” he said, now bothered by how intently Vane was staring. “I don’t always have time for desserts with how busy things are back home, you know.”

The other knight flashed him another one of his signature smiles and gave the ice-cold boxes another gentle nudge towards Percival. “Mhm, says the guy who wouldn’t let go of the extra box. If you’re that busy, then all the more to munch on something sweet, right? I made you an additional cake to make sure you get all the seconds your heart desires --because it _will_ desire seconds.”

“Hmph. You learn one thing about me and start acting like you know all my weaknesses,” Percival replied, crossing his arms. “What makes you so sure?”

“You said it earlier, Percy! That my confidence wasn’t just for show.”

_Touch_ _é_ _._

Percival quietly turned on his heel with the two icy boxes in hand and left the room with a shrug, refusing to admit that Vane had won this round. The rest of the day went by as any other, apart from Arthur pointing out how weirdly distracted their sparring instructor seemed. The daze could have been caused by his own fatigue, or from worrying over his best friend, but Vane did not rule out the possibility of a buttermilk pancake-induced hangover, among the many other bizarre thoughts that made his head feel fuzzy.

En route to Wales, an ornate horse-driven carriage rolled along a lush countryside. Percival sat impatiently as he found it difficult to resist opening the box of sweets. His pride dictated that he abstain from giving into curiosity for a moment, making sure he was a good distance away from Feendrache before helping himself to the fabled treat. A small wooden fork conveniently laid over the wax paper separating the cake’s top from the container --perhaps another kind gesture from its bubbly patissier. Percival stared at the contents, feeling strangely nervous about taking the first bite. _What if it really is as tasty as they say?_

_And what if I end up liking it?_

A part of him couldn’t come to terms with the thought of enjoying anything relating to Vane -- _loud, childlike, annoying_ Vane, who seemed to be one of the only people who truly mingled with him without the titles of ‘Lord’ or ‘Alpha’ getting in the way. The man never tried too hard to please him; and when he did, it was always out of genuine kindness and nothing more. With nearly everyone in both Feendrache and Wales doing their best to stick up their noses for the sake of recognition, folks who saw him for who he truly was, like the folks in the Grandcypher Crew, Lancelot, Siegfried, and Vane, were rare encounters he held dearly.

Percival finally held the bite-sized piece to his lips and let the sweet aroma of strawberries fill the air. Although he grimaced as his thoughts taunted him, letting these cakes go to waste in pride’s name had not once entered his mind. The moment the cold pastry entered his mouth, he was once again reminded of the comforting aura he had considerably become fond of over the past two days; over breakfast. He relished in the way the cake melted on his tongue like snow on the first spring day, eliciting a small moan the moment the strawberries burst in his mouth and sent waves of bliss down his stomach.

_‘They were all right.’_

_‘I really am going to want more of this.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was attacked by a writer's block in the middle of making this chapter, but all's well that ends well. ^^; 
> 
> Quite a number of comments expressed interest in the Vane-Percival pair, so I thought writing about them would be a really nice break from all the drama. It's sweet thinking of Lancelot's two overprotective friends slowly coming together over something as intimate as cooking.
> 
> I hope to include a part where the Chickadees and Lancelot tease Vane over his little crush later on. That would be really cute.
> 
> Thank you for your support and for sticking with us! ;w; I'll do my best to keep things interesting until the end.


	7. The Heart Wants What it Wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waiting for his heat to pass, Lancelot is subject to confinement in his own room. With his friends unable to attend to him because of work, the Omega-Captain takes this opportunity to reflect on his next step, when unwelcomed visitors suddenly arrive to test him.

Things were taking a turn for the worse.

It was nearing midday, and Captain Lancelot had, since a couple of hours ago, been trying his best to keep busy. Scribbling furiously at his desk, he struggled against the physical discomfort of his body aching, and of his cloaca’s incessant leaking. The intrusive commotion outside his door that came periodically this morning was enough to stir him awake for a brief moment, but it took a couple of recurring nightmares to finally drive him out of bed. 

The troubles he faced in the waking world were unwelcome, but Lancelot thought it best to at least get some of his work out of the way. Though he had toiled for hours, the murmurs of the visitors coming and going outside did not stop. Now and then, he would notice several shadows pacing back and forth from the space under his door. They always came and congregated in groups, like flies drawn to a piece of fruit that had been left out in the open. Sometimes the shadows would elicit sharp whispers and piercing hisses that reminded him of the ones from his nightmares.

Hands clasped on his desk, he pondered. _‘They’ve found me out. Th_ _ere’s no way they haven’t, and they’re trying to look for an opportunity.’_

A few grueling hours felt like an eternity, with no amount of paperwork able to keep his thoughts off his woes. His eyes absently skimmed through stacks of reports while his hand signed each sheet as if it possessed a mind of its own.

The Omega-Captain was thinking of his next step.

It was a miracle he could even write, much less get out of bed. He’d desperately been praying for a trusted friend to barge in and keep him company, but given what time it was, that was highly unlikely. King Carl was attending to his administrative duties; Percival had already left for Wales; Vane wouldn’t be back until sundown; and Siegfried had to steer clear of him for obvious reasons. It would also probably take some time before the Grandcypher Crew’s next visit. 

Lancelot restlessly tapped his index finger against his fountain pen, struggling to fight the urge to listen to the muffled murmurs behind his door. 

His mentor’s cloak sat in his peripheral view, making itself comfortable among the creases of his unmade bed. He flushed upon remembering what he had done to it the previous night, partly cursing his instincts for getting him into his current predicament. There was a strange mix of contradicting emotions in the air, and dealing with the sickening bubbling in his stomach felt like walking a tightrope. There he was several feet off the ground, with everyone’s eyes on him. It was perhaps only a matter of moments before he slipped and fell off. Such was the bittersweet intoxication of love and lust, mixed with his unfortunate position as an Omega in a castle full of mostly Alphas and Betas.

The low voices outside grew more restless as the hours passed. His scent had likely already reached the far ends of this castle’s wing, heightening his unease. Forcing himself to do his paperwork just wasn’t helping anymore as his heat consumed him --the evident tightness in his trousers being a not-so-subtle reminder of that. It soon became impossible to ignore the heady scent on Siegfried’s cloak. The familiar whiff of sandalwood teased the forlorn knight’s nostrils. He bit down on his lower lip and moaned, rubbing an erect nipple through his sweaty dress shirt.

_‘S… Siegfried…’_

_What was Siegfried doing now? How was he holding up?_ For the umpteenth time, Lancelot had failed to keep his former captain off his mind. He soon began to rub himself through his clothing, frantically reaching for the buttons of his trousers.

_‘I want to see him. I want to tell him everything I’ve been keeping to myself.’_

Just as the image of Siegfried began to form in his mind, the sound of metal hitting a hard surface abruptly cut his feverish daydream short. In hitched breaths and a soaked hand, Lancelot jolted and hurriedly zipped his trousers back up.

_What was that?_ He darted his head across the room to look for anything amiss, and there by the door, illuminated by a soft beam of sunlight through his window, laid a small shiny piece of metal. It was his door lock. Someone had tinkered with his door lock to make it fall out of place.

Lancelot broke into a cold sweat and found himself up on his tightrope once again, remembering how he had, since this morning, been the star in the watchful eyes of his men. He watched closely as the door creaked open, and through the tiny space peered a grin so chilling it made it harder for Lancelot to breathe. Standing outside was neither Siegfried nor Vane, but the same soldiers Percival caught conspiring that same morning by the castle gates. Despite the fear Percival had instilled in them earlier, the overbearing scent of the Omega-Captan in heat finally drove them to abandon their last ounces of rational thinking. His men weren’t fully in control of themselves, and Lancelot was aware of this. Even in his predicament, he could not find it in his heart to fault his men entirely for their actions. The Knight Captain sighed and tried to recompose himself to mask his unease.

“This wing is off-limits to non-ranking officers. I disagree with corporal punishment, so I’ll let you off with a warning just this once.” Lancelot managed to greet the intruders sternly, only to be met with a sneer from the conspiring duo. He staggered as he rose from his seat to reach for his daggers, immediately surrendering to the weakness in his knees. He was lucky enough to have been able to grab hold of one dagger, and with a glare pointed it towards the two offenders. There was a disabling tension in the air. The intruders carefully walked further into the captain’s room with staccatoed steps as he glared at them, like lizards being lured in with a grain of rice. Their eyes gleamed ravenously at their Captain, throats hoarse with desire.

“You’ve been away for a couple days, Captain; we were startin’ to get worried. So we thought of checking in on you, out of the goodness of our hearts.”

“You look like you’re in _tremendous pain_ , Sir _._ Anything we can do to help you out with that?”

The pair chuckled as they stared condescendingly. Their words had made it obvious they’d figured out his secret, making it all the more reason to resort to drastic measures. He can worry about the consequences later, as his safety had always been his top priority since returning to Feendrache. Anyone could taunt him for being born an Omega all they wished, but it was about time the world realized that being an Omega, a commoner, or both was neither an invitation nor were they weaknesses to exploit. Lancelot steeled his resolve as the ache in his body grew. 

“Must I repeat myself?” he said sharply, “Return to your posts!” Lancelot’s body impatiently twitched in the presence of the Alpha and Beta duo, proving it more difficult to hide his pain as he remained hunched down. Though he managed to strike an intimidating tone, it was only a matter of seconds before he or the two Alphas yielded to their carnal impulses. He had to end this now.

_‘I don’t think I can hold them off for much longer, so the quicker this is over, the better.’_

A thin layer of fog soon occupied the room. Tightening his grasp on the dagger’s handle, Lancelot held his blade high towards his subordinates. Though his underside grew damper in his own slick, he did not waver. He pictured his friends cheering him on.

_‘One swift movement is all it will take. Never again shall anyone take advantage of what I was born with. No noble, no Alpha, nobody.’_

_‘More importantly… I have decided that there is indeed someone I wish to spend the rest of my life with. For that reason, I refuse to be bonded to anyone else --especially to the likes of these two!’_

“Siegfried…”

In the eyes of his attackers was a helpless Omega submitting to the unfortunate role he’d been fated to serve. Clinging onto what was left of his sanity, Lancelot drew in a long, deep breath as the soldiers closed in. Would he be able to keep himself from slipping off the tightrope after this next step?

Preparing himself, Lancelot closed his eyes and sat still.

_‘King Carl, please forgive me for what I'm about to do next.’_

“He's calling for Siegfried. Siegfried’s got his hands full at the moment! Daddy won’t be here to save you.”

“We must say we like this hidden side of you, Captain Lancelot. Don’t worry, no one else will find out. Because from this day onwards, you’re going to be _my_ omega-”

_“Weissflugel!”_

The battle ended in an instant. More eyes peered into his room through the door that had blasted open with the sheer force of his attack. Panting dryly, Lancelot dropped to the floor as the pair of abominable ice pops stood frozen before him. The last thing he remembered was the sound of Sophia’s voice fading into muffled static as he succumbed to unconsciousness. He drifted off to sleep, and word of his being an Omega officially spread thanks to the numerous witnesses that day. Another week is spent in isolation, with security being tighter --and _Vane-er_ than ever.

By the time Lancelot had finally gotten well enough to resume his daily tasks, the energy around the castle had changed. Maids would shyly whisper among themselves when they saw him walk by, and most of the Order’s soldiers would avert their gazes even as they greeted him.

~~~

The fact that an Omega-Captain had risen to power was already shocking for most of the castle's occupants, but it was hardly as concerning as the known fate that awaited anyone who dared take advantage of him. It would be a while again before Lancelot regained the confidence of his men, but knowing he could finally roam freely without having to hide or worry about being attacked was a liberation like no other.

“That’s right!” Vane beamed, nudging Lancelot’s side during one of their lunches together, “They were all shaking like leaves when they heard about those two; even more when King Carl said he wouldn’t think twice about removing anyone who dared to mess with you. It’s a victory for Lancey, and a victory for me!”

“I wish things didn’t have to go this far, but hey! This ending’s still a pretty happy one, don't you think?” Lancelot replied, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

Vane raised an eyebrow and stared intently at his friend. “Lancelot,” he smirked, “If this is your idea of a happy ending, then… I guess I’ll just have to keep Siegfried to myself!”

_A choking noise. Lancelot choked._

“Lancey- OH CRAP, LANCEY! WATER! DRINK SOME WATER!”

As Vane frantically reached for his metal canteen --spilling most of its contents in the process --a lifetime of suppression had finally come to an end for Lancelot. The two friends continued bantering underneath the warm noontime shade; sounds of their laughter finally reclaiming the life that had been absent from the training grounds for an entire week.

It was bliss. And now that Lancelot was finally sure of what his heart wanted, nothing in the skydom could ever again, stand in his path to bring him down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it's been a while!
> 
> Because of how busy work has been, this chapter took aaages to write. I thank you all for your patience. ;w; Aside from the Writer's Block Fairy paying me visits every now and then, it also took forever to decide on how to end this chapter. I wanted to highlight Lanchan's strong character, so I pray I chose correctly. ;w; Things will finally get exciting from hereon out.
> 
> Thank you once again for keeping up with the story this far! I hope you've all been well in the midst of this pandemic. It's important to stay safe and healthy, so please keep safe until things get better.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading White Dragon, Black Dragon, Blue Sky!
> 
> This is my first ABO fic, so I'll do my best to give justice to the characters, as well as the dynamics. I typed this during my down time at work (too lazy to grind Xeno event), so I don't know how regularly I can update this. I'll try to update this as often as I can! Spare Kudos, please? ;w;


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